Reading Good Omens
by spn-rules
Summary: When Adam finds a mysterious manuscript entitled "Good Omens", he decides to show it to a certain angel and demon duo. Rated T for mild language  nothing worse than what's in the book  and C/A. Nothing too explicit.
1. The Manuscript

_Ring,__ring.__Ring,__ring._ Crowley slitted open one yellow eye and groped round from under the covers.

'Oh, what the hell,' he muttered at last, gesturing and waiting for the phone to fly into his grasp.

'What?' he said irritably when he answered.

'Crowley, my dear, are you all right? You sound quite…' the voice on the other end of the line trailed off.

'Of course I'm not bloody all right!' Crowley growled. 'It's a _Sunday_, angel. On Sundays I don't get up until past noon, because if I do then I'll have to go outside, and if I go outside then I'll run into someone who's just been to _church_, angel, and they'll be so charged up with bloody holiness I won't be able to get out of bed for a week! So, let me ask you something, and I want you to give me a straight answer. No messing about. So- _why_ the bloody _Manchester_ are you ringing me at-' he pulled the phone away from his ear and briefly consulted the time. 'At _seven__o__'__clock_ in the bloody morning, angel?'

'Really, Crowley, there's no need for such language. You swore at least five times in that sentence.'

'Actually, Aziraphale, it was four, and I don't think _bloody_ counts as a swearword anyway. These do though,' and he proceeded to swear fluently in every language known to man- and a few that weren't- until Aziraphale interrupted him.

'Really, my dear? I didn't even know you could swear in Enochian. Was that honestly necessary?'

'_Yes_.'

'So I suppose you want me to tell you now?'

'Please, don't trouble yourself,' Crowley said, voice dripping with sarcasm. 'After all, I'm just a lowly demon.'

'Fine. Well… I got a new book!'

'Well done,' the demon commented. 'Can I go back to sleep now?'

'Oh, I think you'll be rather impressed with my new acquisition. Adam brought it round only a few minutes ago.'

'What is it? Another book of prophecies telling us we'll have to save the world- again?'

'Oh no, it's even better. You'll find out if you get to my bookshop in, oh, ten minutes? Fifteen at the most.'

And with that, the phone went dead. Crowley stared at it for a second, then turned the stare into a glare. The phone began to smoulder.

'You're an _angel_,' he said, to no-one in particular. 'Angels aren't supposed to just _hang__up_ on people.'

When the phone didn't answer, Crowley swore briefly and hauled himself out of bed. With an idle gesture he was dressed and the bed made, and within thirty seconds he was in the Bentley.

'Bookshop, here I come,' he muttered to himself and floored the gas, leaving seven words trailing behind him. 'At seven o'clock in the bloody morning…'

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Eight and a half minutes later, a 1926 Bentley pulled up outside a Soho bookshop. The double yellow lines obediently rolled back and Crowley stepped out, not bothering to lock the door. No-one had tried to steal his car since the last thief who attempted it had spontaneously combusted. He swung open the door to the bookshop.

'Well, angel?' he asked. 'Where is this oh-so-marvellous book of yours?'

Suddenly, he saw a young man sitting on the counter, carelessly swinging his legs. He looked like a Michelangelo sculpture done in colour, with curls of solid gold and the bluest eyes Crowley had ever seen.

'Hey, Adam,' he said weakly. 'Long time no see.'

Adam looked up and smiled at him. 'Hey, Crowley. That protection I gave you at the Apocalypse still holding up?'

Crowley shrugged. 'I'm not dead yet, so yeah, I guess. What was this book then?'

The door at the back of the shop opened and Aziraphale came out.

'Crowley! I wasn't expecting you to get here so fast.'

'Book, Zira. Where's the book?'

Adam held up a book. A manuscript, actually.

'It ain't on the shelves yet, but being who I am, I got a copy.' He tossed it to Crowley, who read the words on the front.

'Good Omens, by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman. Pratchett, eh? Read a few of his. He's pretty good.'

'Really?' Aziraphale asked. 'I never had you pegged as a reader before, Crowley.'

'Yeah, well, Discworld's different. Got lots of sin.'

'I think it's called satire, actually.'

'Satire, sin, same difference. Never heard of this Gaiman bloke, though. And what's so special about _this_?' He waved the manuscript in the air.

'Read the next page,' Adam offered.

Crowley opened it. 'The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter.' He blinked. Twice. And for someone who's still part snake, that's a rare occurrence. 'You mean…'

'Yes,' Aziraphale agreed. 'The story of the Apocalypse.'

'You!' Adam stared at the demon for a second.

'Whaddya mean, me?'

'You! You caused this, this _thing_ to get written! I'm going to burn in Hell for this! And I mean that _literally_.'

'No, I didn't. Not really, anyway. Not _directly_. I just wondered about what happened, you know, before, and next thing I know, this turns up on my doorstep. I wasn't _expecting_ it to be written.'

Aziraphale intervened. 'From what Adam has told me, these men Pratchett and Gaiman are some kind of prophets. They have obviously retained some memory of what happened that Saturday, and their subconscious has prompted them to write about it.'

'Obviously,' Crowley murmured.

'And I thought you might like to read it,' Adam said hastily. 'I've invited Anathema round.'

'_Anathema?_ The witch who was at the Apocalypse? But I thought you wiped everyone's memories of what happened?'

'I did, Crowley, but Anathema's psychic. She came to me a couple of months later and told me she could remember most of it. I thought she might as well know the rest. She should be here-' The bell at the front of the shop rang. 'Any minute now!' Adam finished with a grin. 'Hey, Anathema.'

The dark-haired, green-eyed young woman smiled at him. 'Hello Adam.' She flashed a shiny ring at him. 'Congratulate me?'

Adam jumped up. 'Newt's finally got round to proposing? Congrats, Anathema! When's the wedding?'

'A year from now, in June. And why did you want to see me?' She flashed an apologetic look at Crowley and Aziraphale. 'I'm sorry, I don't even know what I'm here for. Adam just said to come to a certain bookshop at a certain time. He said something about… Apocalypses…'

Aziraphale smiled warmly at her. 'Not Apocalypses plural, my dear. There's only ever been one.'

'You!' Anathema stared at him. ' I know you… You were in the car that night. You ran into me.'

'No, I didn't,' Crowley protested. '_You_ ran into _me_.'

'I remember you, too. You were driving. Are you together, or something?'

'_What?_' Crowley and Aziraphale said at the same time.

'Well, you were calling each other angel and dear, and I guessed they were sort of… you know, pet names for each other…' Anathema trailed off at the look on Crowley's face.

'Zira calls everyone dear. It's the way his mind works. And I call him angel because it's true. Aziraphale, angel of the Lord, Principality, former guardian of the Eastern Gate of Eden, Heaven's representative on Earth for the last six thousand years, averter of the Apocalypse, and… what have I forgot to mention? Oh, yes. And he's a damn good kisser, too.' He grinned wickedly in Aziraphale's direction, and the angel looked away, blushing furiously.

'It's true,' he admitted. 'Except for the last bit.'

'What,' Crowley asked innocently. 'You mean to say you _didn__'__t_ help stop the Apocalypse? And you lying to me for all these years and all.'

'Not that last bit. The other last bit.'

Anathema looked from one to the other.

'I thought you said you weren't together,' she said at last.

'Oh, we are,' Crowley told her. 'Not when you last met us though. It's only been the last year or so, and I think it came as quite a surprise to Zira. To think, in six thousand years on Earth, it's only been the last year that he's -'

'Crowley!' Aziraphale snapped, the flush from a minute earlier rising again. 'We are not here to talk about my private life!'

'Aren't we? But we talk about it all the time.'

'So,' Anathema said hastily. 'You're both angels then?'

'Me? Nah. I'm a demon and proud of it. Not just one of your average cut-price demons either. Not a _damned__soul_.' He said the words as though it was the worst thing to be. To be honest, it probably was.

'Crowley is one of the Fallen,' Zira put in. 'The last of those that Fell in the Great War, actually. Serpent of Eden, original sin, Hell's agent on Earth for the last six thousand years. We've known each other for a long time.'

'And over the last year we've gotten to know each other even better,' Crowley said slyly, an innuendo hiding beneath every word, ready to jump out on the unwary.

Everyone ignored him.

'So,' Adam said. 'I've been meaning to ask. How did you two actually meet?'

The demon tossed him the manuscript. 'I suggest we make ourselves comfy and see if Pratchett's latest masterpiece has got it right. Shall we, gentlemen? And ladies,' he added on seeing Anathema's glare. Even Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

The group settled themselves on Aziraphale's tartan sofas. Adam and Anathema on one, sat beside each other, and Crowley and Aziraphale on the other. The demon curled into Zira, cushioning his head on the angel's shoulder.

'Well, oh great Antichrist? What're you waiting for?'

Adam didn't bother glaring at him, instead opening the manuscript.

'**In****the****Beginning**,' he read…


	2. In The Beginning

**Tadaaaah! Mark of Athena chapter 6 and chapter 2 of this up in one day!**

**Thank you to: LadyLigeia19, pawakin, A Guy Named George, Seablue Eyes, mightyBookworm, and all my other readers!**

**Hope you enjoy! And remember, the more you review, the more I post! Let me know if you want any other characters to read with them. Include the reason why (ie. Pepper knows about the Apocalypse because Adam's her boyfriend and he told her.)**

**Pretty Pretty Please Review!**

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><p>'<strong>In <strong>**the ****Beginning**,' Adam read.

**It was a nice day. All the days had been nice. The had been rather more than seven of them so far, and rain hadn't been invented yet. But clouds massing east of Eden suggested that the first thunderstorm was on it's way, and it was going to be a big one.**

**The angel of the Eastern Gate put his wings over his head to shield himself from the first drops.**

'**I'm sorry,' he said politely. 'What was it you were saying?'**

'See,' Crowley laughed. 'Not even out of Eden, and he's already acting British.'

'Shut up, you,' Aziraphale said, batting him lightly on the nose. 'Or I won't be your headrest any more.'

'**I _said_, that one went down like a lead balloon,' said the serpent.**

'It's me!'

'_Crowley__…_'

'Shutting up, Zira.'

'**Oh. Yes,' said the angel, whose name was Aziraphale.**

'It's you!'

'One more word, Crowley, and you're banned from the bookshop for a month.'

'So?'

'And that includes the back room.'

'Oh. Right.'

'**I think it was a bit of an overreaction, to be honest,' said the serpent. 'I mean, first offence and everything. I can't see what's so bad about knowing the difference between good and evil, anyway.'**

'**It must _be_ bad,' reasoned Aziraphale, in the slightly concerned tones of one who can't see it either, and is worrying about it, 'otherwise _you_ wouldn't be involved.'**

'**They just said, "Get up there and make some trouble,"' said the serpent, whose name was Crawly, although he was thinking of changing it now. Crawly, he decided, was not _him_.**

'It wasn't,' Crowley muttered, not quite loud enough for the angel to hear him.

'**Yes, but you're a demon. I'm not sure if it's actually possible for you to do good,' said Aziraphale. 'It's down to your basic, you know, nature. Nothing personal, you understand.'**

'That's a bit mean, isn't it?' Anathema asked, unable to keep the smile from her voice.

'My point of view exactly!' Crowley said triumphantly. 'But I've been banned from saying my point of view by a certain bigoted angel.'

'Just keep reading,' Aziraphale said with a long-suffering sigh.

'**You've got to admit it's a bit of a pantomime, though,' said Crawly. 'I mean, pointing out the Tree and saying "Don't Touch" in big letters. Not very subtle, is it? I mean, why not put it on top of a high mountain or a really long way off? Makes you wonder what He's really planning.'**

'You know,' Adam said thoughtfully. 'I've always wondered that. Do you think He wanted humanity to be independent after all?'

When no-one replied, he kept reading.

'**Best not to speculate, really,' said Aziraphale. 'You can't second-guess ineffability, I always say.**

'First time I ever heard the word,' Crowley said.

'But weren't you an angel?' Adam asked. 'Surely you'd heard of ineffability?'

'The word came into use after the Great War,' Aziraphale explained. 'After Crowley Fell. A lot of the younger angels had lost good friends in the War, and they started to question. Things like "If our Father loves us, then why does he let us die? Why does he let us Fall to a fate worse then death?". The archangels decided to give a simple answer that no-one could talk back to. "It's ineffable." No-one had an answer to that, so eventually they stopped asking.'

'Right,' Adam said slowly.

**There's Right and there's Wrong. If you do Wrong when you're told to do Right, then you deserve to be punished. Er.'**

'And that was when I remembered I was talking to a demon,' Aziraphale muttered.

**They sat in embarrassed silence, watching the raindrops bruise the first flowers.**

**Eventually Crawly said, 'Didn't you have a flaming sword?'**

'And now it begins!' Crowley said with a self-satisfied smirk.

'I wouldn't be too cocky if I were you,'Aziraphale warned. 'Because in a couple of minutes we're going to be finding out just how you managed to _misplace __the __Antichrist_.'

'Shuddup.'

'**Er,' said the angel. A guilty expression passed across his face, and then came back and camped there.**

'**You did, didn't you?' said Crawly. 'It flamed like anything.'**

'**Er, well – '**

'**It looked very impressive, I thought.'**

'**Yes, but, well – '**

'**Lost it, have you?'**

'**Oh no! no, not exactly lost, more – '**

'**Well?'**

**Aziraphale looked wretched. 'If you must know,' he said, a trifle testily, 'I gave it away.'**

The whole room burst out laughing. Aziraphale buried his head in his hands and looked mortified.

**Crawly stared up at him.**

'**Well, I had to,' the angel said, rubbing his hands distractedly.**

'Oh, I remember this bit,' Crowley added. 'Up next; the longest sentence in the world. Good luck, Adam.'

'**They looked so cold, poor things, and she's expecting _already_, and what with the _vicious_ animals out there and the storm coming up I thought, well, where's the harm, so I just said, look, if you come back there's going to be an almighty row, but you might be needing this sword, so here it is, don't bother to thank me, just do everybody a big favour and don't let the sun go down on you here.'**

It was testament to Adam's Antichrist talents that he didn't take a single breath.

**He gave Crawly a worried grin.**

'**That was the best cause, wasn't it?'**

'**I'm not sure it's actually possible for you to do evil,' said Crawly sarcastically. Aziraphale didn't notice the tone.**

'Of course I didn't, sarcasm hadn't been invented in Heaven yet.'

'**Oh, I do hope so,' he said. 'It's been worrying me all afternoon.'**

**They watched the rain for a while.**

'**Funny thing is,' said Crawly, '_I_ keep wondering whether the apple thing wasn't the right thing to do as well. A demon can get into real trouble, doing the right thing.' He nudged the angel.**

'And just for the record, that's unbelievably hard to do when you're a snake.'

'We didn't need to know that, Crowley.'

'**Funny if we both got it wrong, eh? Funny if I did the good thing and you did the bad one, eh?'**

'**Not really,' said Aziraphale.**

**Crawly looked at the rain.**

'**No,' he said, sobering up. 'I suppose not.'**

**Slate-black curtains tumbled over Eden. Thunder growled among the hills. The animals, freshly named, cowered from the storm.**

**Far away, in the dripping woods, something bight and fiery flickered among the trees.**

**It was going to be a dark and stormy night.**

'Well that was… illuminating.'

Anathema stared at Crowley. 'So you really were a snake?'

He slid his glasses down his nose to reveal yellow-gold eyes with vertical pupils.

'That's right. I was the serpent of Eden. One of the most famous demons ever. And do I get any thanks for it? Do I get promoted? No.'

Adam entered the conversation. Or rather, the rant.

'Anathema, you can read the next bit.' He tossed the book to her. 'It's pretty short, but whatever.'

'That's fine. I'll read.'

She turned the page.

**Good Omens…**


	3. Dramatis Personae

**Oh. My. God. That's three chapters posted in one day. I'm on a roll!**

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><p>'<strong>Good <strong>**Omens****'** Anathema read.

**A ****Narrative ****of ****Certain ****Events ****occurring ****in ****the ****last ****eleven ****years ****of ****human ****history, ****in ****strict ****accordance ****as ****shall ****be ****shewn ****with:**

_**The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter**_

**Compiled and edited, with Footnotes of an Educational Nature and Precepts for the Wise, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett.**

_**DRAMATIS PERSONAE**_

**SUPERNATURAL BEINGS**

'I didn't know it was possible to speak in capitals without shouting,' Crowley commented.

'That's one of the good things about learning to read from an eighteenth-century book of prophecies.'

**God (God)**

**Metatron (The Voice of God)**

'And unbelievably stuck-up and snobby.' Crowley wagged his finger under Aziraphale's nose. 'And don't you argue with me, Zira, you know it's true.'

**Aziraphale (An angel, and part-time rare-book dealer)**

'You get a mention?'

'Of course I do. I am a character, after all.'

**Satan (A Fallen Angel; the Adversary)**

'And my dad!'

**Beelzebub (A Likewise Fallen Angel and Prince of Hell)**

**Hastur (A Fallen Angel and Duke of Hell)**

**Ligur (Likewise a Fallen Angel and Duke of Hell)**

'And dead,' Crowley said, with much satisfaction. 'Did him in myself. Should be in here somewhere. And why don't I get a mention?'

**Crowley (An Angel who did not so much Fall as Saunter Vaguely Downwards)**

'There I am!'

'Saunter vaguely downwards? How did you even manage that?'

'I guess I'll have to tell you how I Fell, won't I?' Crowley heaved a sigh. 'Fine. Here it is. When Lucifer started the meetings, a lot of angels went to them. About half, actually. At first, they were just about equality. Heaven was pretty divided back then, into ranks and garrisons and departments. I was in the Department of Creation. I invented… snow. I remember snow. And snowball fights too, a couple of minutes later. Hit Lucifer in the wing with the first ever snowball, but he just laughed, threw one back, and congratulated me on my new creation. That was the sort of angel he was, you see. You can tell why people liked him, can't you? You never had time to talk to people from other departments, and you weren't allowed to talk to people from other ranks. Lucifer wanted to change that. That's why people went to the meetings. But then, later… he changed. Started talking about being more powerful then the other archangels, more powerful then God Himself. But you couldn't stop going to the meetings, because by then he knew who you were.' Crowley stared down at his hands. 'I didn't fight in the main war. I had friends on both sides, I didn't want to kill any of them. I didn't Fall then, either. I Fell after, when we were all stood there, and Michael was congratulating us on defeating the rebels. I looked over to where my friends normally stood in their garrisons and… they weren't there. They were dead. And something inside of me broke. I stood up there, in front of all of Heaven, and I questioned. I asked why, if God loved us so much, He allowed us to die. That was why I Fell.' Crowley dropped his head into his hands. 'I never wanted to Fall,' he said in a muffled voice. 'All I wanted to know was the truth. Is that so wrong?'

'Crowley…' Aziraphale murmured. 'I'm so sorry… I never knew…'

'Read,' Crowley muttered. 'Just read.'

There was a short pause before Anathema continued.

**APOPCALYPTIC HORSEPERSONS**

**DEATH (Death)**

**War (War)**

**Famine (Famine)**

**Pollution (Pollution)**

**HUMANS**

**Thou-Shalt-Not-Commit-Adultery Pulsifer (A Witchfinder)**

**Agnes Nutter (A Prophetess)**

**Newton Pulsifer (Wages Clerk and Witchfinder Private)**

**Anathema Device (Practical Occultist and Professional Descendant)**

**Shadwell (Witchfinder Seargent)**

**Madame Tracy (Painted Jezebel [mornings only, Thursdays by arrangement] and Medium)**

**Sister Mary Loquacious (A Satanic Nun of the Chattering Order of St Beryl)**

**Mr Young (A Father)**

**Mr Tyler (A Chairman of a Residents' Association)**

**A Delivery Man**

**THEM**

**ADAM (An Antichrist)**

'Don't you just love the way that they make understatements?'

Aziraphale smiled slightly. If Crowley was cracking jokes again, it probably meant he was okay.

**Pepper (A Girl)**

**Wenslydale (A Boy)**

**Brian (A Boy)**

**Full Chorus of Tibetans, Aliens, Americans, Atlanteans and other rare and strange Creatures of the Last Days.**

'And I created all of these?'

'You believed in them. That was enough to make them reality.'

**AND:**

**Dog (Satanical hellhound and cat-worrier)**

Anathema passed the manuscript to Aziraphale.

'Your turn?'

'Of course, my dear.'

**Eleven Years Ago…**


	4. Eleven Years Ago

**Hi! Sorry for not putting a disclaimer or anything at the beginning of the others, bit I've been kinda busy these holidays.**

**MERRY CHRISTMAS! Yay! Christmas Eve! And to those of you who don't celebrate it... sorry.**

**Disclaimer: Am I a man? Am I aged 50+? No and no. If I owned Good Omens in any way, Crowley and Aziraphale _would_ be together. No question. They are made for each other. But I don't. *sigh* Only in my dreams...**

**Anyway! Thank you to: Master Of All Imagination, Magik Sause Of Death and all my other readers. So many, and only been up for 12 days!**

**Master Of All Imagination: I was planning on doing the whole thing... and I don't _think_ I'll get into copywrite trouble. After all, jlmill9 (great author , by the way!) has done the same style of Reading The... stories for Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, and Twilight.**

**On with the story! R&R!**

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><p>'<strong>Eleven Years Ago,<strong>' Aziraphale read.

**Current theories on the creation of the Universe state that, if it were created at all and didn't just start, as it were, unofficially, it came into being between ten and twenty thousand million years ago.**

** These dates are incorrect.**

'Of course they are,' Adam said, smiling.

**Medieval Jewish scholars put the date of the Creation at 3760 BC.**

'Wrong!' Crowley sang out. He'd obviously got over his bit of angst from earlier.

**Greek Orthodox scholars put Creation as far back as 5508 BC.**

'Wrong again!'

**These suggestions are also incorrect.**

** Archbishop James Usher (1580 – 1656) published _Annales Veteris et Novi Testamenti_ in 1654, which suggested that the Heaven and the Earth were created in 4004 BC. One of his aides took the calculation further, and was able to announce triumphantly that the Earth was created on Sunday the 21st of October, 4004 BC, at exactly 9.00 a.m., because God liked to get work done early in the morning, while he was feeling fresh.**

** This too was incorrect. By almost a quarter of an hour.**

'Was it 9.15 or 8.45?' Anathema asked.

'9.15,' Aziraphale told her. 'It would have been done sooner, but He lost the Tree.'

**The whole business with the fossilised dinosaur skeletons was a joke that the palaeontologists haven't seen yet.**

'So who set that up?' Adam wondered out loud. 'Heaven or Hell?' Everyone looked over at a snigger from Crowley. 'I'm guessing it was you, then.'

'Yep,' he said. 'It's unbelievably hilarious to see them inventing this whole new theory just because of some trick that little old me set up.'

'You really need to get a life.'

**This proves two things:**

** Firstly, that God moves in extremely mysterious, not to say, circuitous ways. God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of any of the other players [1], to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules, and who _smiles all the time_.**

** |*_[1] i.e., everybody._*|**

'That's about right,' Aziraphale mused. 'A pretty good way of summing it up, actually.'

**Secondly, the Earth's a Libra.**

** The astrological prediction for Libra in the "Your Stars Today" column of the Tadfield _Advertiser_, on the day this history begins, reads as follows:-**

** _LIBRA. 24 September – 23 October_**

_** You may be feeling run down and always in the same old daily round. Home and family matters are highlighted and are hanging fire. Avoid unnecessary risks. A friend is important to you. Shelve major decisions until the way ahead seems clear. You may be vulnerable to a stomach upset today, so avoid salads. Help could come from an unexpected quarter.**_

** This was perfectly correct on every count except the bit about the salads.**

There was a short pause.

'Is that is?' Crowley asked.

'Yes. It's your turn to read next.'

'Nah. You can take the next bit. I'll have the bit after.'

'Fine.'

**It wasn't a dark and stormy night.**

** It should have been, but that's the weather for you. For every mad scientist who's had a convenient thunderstorm the night his Great Work is finished and lying on the slab, there have been dozens who've sat around aimlessly under the peaceful stars while Igor clocks up the overtime.**

'Ain't that true,' Adam mused. 'I remember one time, me and Brian and Wensley and Pepper, we decided to try and make a Frankenstein. We waited for _weeks_. And when we did get a storm, Wensley's lightning thingy set on fire.'

** But don't let the fog (with rain later, temperatures dropping to around forty-five degrees) give anyone a false sense of security. Just because it's a mild night doesn't mean that dark forces aren't abroad. They're abroad all the time. They're _everywhere_.**

'No, they're not. They're often in London, though.'

**They always are. That's the whole point.**

** Two of them lurked in the ruined graveyard. Two shadowy figures, one hunched and squat, the other lean and menacing, both of them Olympic-grade lurkers. If Bruce Springsteen had ever recorded 'Born to Lurk', these two would have been on the album cover. They had been lurking in the fog for an hour now, but they had been pacing themselves and could lurk for the rest of the night if necessary, with still enough sullen menace left for a final burst of lurking around dawn.**

'Okay,' Crowley said slowly. 'Weird way of putting it, but I guess it's true.'

** Finally, after another twenty minutes, one of them said: 'Bugger this for a lark. He should of been here _hours_ ago.'**

** The speaker's name was Hastur. He was a Duke of Hell.**

'This next bit's about you, dear. Do you want to read?'

'He- Somewhere, yeah!' Crowley said with a grin. 'Finally this book will get even better. I've arrived!'


End file.
